Brianstorm
by Ivori
Summary: '"Why did you guys stop being friends in the first place? What happened last year?" I asked out-of-the-blue. Kenny blinked at me stonily. Then he smiled. That knowing smile. The kind where he knew something about you. Something big. It was also the smile that meant he wasn't going to tell me.' Style.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Oh jeez, here we go. All right, I'll admit I'm nervous for this fic. This is my epic project that I've been working on for the past few months. This will be a 13 part series (lol that sounds HUGE). I'll post an order for them sometime in the future on my profile. Anyways, this is going to be one big conglomerate South Park fic-series. It's 12 different songfics all from the album _Favourite Worst Nightmare _by the Arctic Monkeys, making the whole thing an Albumfic. This will be the first installment of the 'Style' portion of the series. There is a Style portion, a Creek portion, and a Kenny-going-around-doing-his-bidness portion. Now, songics don't really appeal to a lot of people but I'm just going to say that mine are a bit different. I hate the cheesy immersing the lyrics into your fic or even worse, having your characters SING them… I just don't really find that intriguing. So I took this album, and I took the themes from the songs, or the feelings that I had when I listened to them and put them into the fic. So the chapters won't usually go along that perfectly with the lyrics. That's a good thing, they're not supposed to. It's all based on the theme of the song. So I'll end this ridiculously long Author's Note now and let you guys get to the story. **

**I do NOT own Brianstorm or Favourite Worst Nightmare, however much I want to. The lyrics are not mine. And I suggest you all listen to the songs because they're awesome. ;3**

* * *

_Brian,_  
_Top marks for not tryin'_  
_So kind of you to bless us_  
_With your effortlessness_  
_We're grateful and so strangely comforted_

~Brianstorm, Arctic Monkeys

* * *

"Dammit," I grit my teeth and glowered at Stan's television.

"Looks like I win again," he said placidly. I could feel his grin on the back of my head. I had been leaning forward in my intense concentration on _Call of Duty_ and I hadn't relaxed my position yet. I threw his controller angrily on the ground. "Hey!" cried Stan, standing up and snatching up his abused controller. "No need to take your pissiness out on my property," he pouted, sending me a look. I rolled my eyes.

"It's not your property. Your parents bought you that X-Box. It's_ their_ property," I said snidely, stretching out my legs before standing shakily up. I'd been sitting too long and my knees hurt like a _bitch_. I collapsed onto Stan's bed, my arms spread out, head buried into his comforter. I closed my eyes. We were going to be seniors soon. After this we were truly going to be adults. All going our separate ways. It seemed like only a little while ago we were all ten years old. None of us had really changed. It was all just the same. South Park had that kind of effect on you. That ageless feeling. The only thing that had changed was that we'd all gotten older. But nothing else. Everything else was exactly the same. I felt the bed depress next to me and I lifted my head. Stan was leaning back on his elbows, looking up at the ceiling. He was still the same Stan that I knew seven years ago. But he did _look_ different. He still had the same straight black hair but it was longer now. At this moment it was falling into his indigo eyes. His eyes certainly hadn't changed. That unique dark blue shade was always present in his irises. They were half-mast as he looked pensively up at the ceiling. Stan usually didn't look pensive. I wasn't sure what he was thinking. He tilted his head back, revealing his chiseled chin and adam's apple. He'd certainly grown into his face. Stan actually looked older than me; even though I was older than him. Heck, he was the youngest of most of us. However, he didn't _look_ sixteen while the rest of us were all seventeen. Heck, Craig was already _eighteen_. Stan had grown a lot. He'd always been the tallest of us when we were younger, well, except for Craig, but now he was just ridiculous. I'd stopped growing when I was fucking fourteen. He's _still_ growing. He's six one already. He doesn't need to be any taller.

"You're glaring at me," he said stonily. I blinked, my eyes adjusting and looked at Stan strangely. He was looking down at me, his head still tilted up. He must have been too lazy to even move his head. "Still sore that I beat you, again?" he smirked at me, his eyes lowering playfully and mockingly. I pouted at him.

"Don't you dare hold that to me. I'll beat you one day," I threatened, looking away from him and closing my eyes.

"Fine, _darling_," he sighed, waving his hand flamboyantly in the air. I don't remember where he got that particular movement from. But he did it whenever he was fucking with me. It looked seriously gay. Maybe he got it from Big Gay Al or someone. Whatever it was, it stuck with him and he did it a lot more than I would really like him to.

"Dude, gay," I laughed, sitting up and shoving him over for mocking me.

"You're the gay one my little shmoopsikins," he fluttered his eyelashes at me and clutched his hands to his chest. Honestly, where did he _get_ these nicknames? I shook my head and chuckled, pushing him again. Stan righted himself and gave me a leering look. "You think you're the only one that can push people around, Kyle?" he laughed, pushing me back. Stan was stronger than me. He should have known that when he pushed me. But he didn't, and I nearly cracked my head on his wall. I tackled him back, pinning him to the bed and grinning at him.

"That's for nearly killing your best friend!" I said, my hands on his shoulders. Stan put his hands on the inside of my arms and looked at me, a devious little look in his eye. His back tensed up and one of his legs shifted under me. I gave him a wary look. "What are you do-" At that point he rolled us over.

And off the bed.

I honestly couldn't breathe. I was taking in giant gulps of air, looking like a fish out of water, my eyes wide and shocked. "Y-you," my breathy voice came out sharp hand hollow. "Ass...hole!" I pushed him off of me and he started laughing hysterically. He didn't even care that he'd just knocked the breath out of me. I clutched my chest as I began to regain my breath, leaning back against the side of his bed. Meanwhile, Stan continued to laugh his head off. "It's not that funny!" I wheezed, giving him a pained look. "That actually hurt a lot, you bastard." Stan shrugged his shoulders and looked like he was still holding in laughs. He scooted over next to me and looked at the television screen at his little 'You Win!' banner. He was smiling. A genuine kind of smile I didn't usually see on him. Honestly, I never really saw a genuine smile on anyone in South Park. Stan's hat had fallen off and was discarded somewhere in the room. I'd taken mine off a while ago. Stan's room was like a sauna. He kept his thermostat amazingly high and he still wore sweatshirts in his room. I wiped sweat off of my forehead after our little episode and took off my jacket, throwing it unceremoniously across his room and glaring at him. Daring him to tell me I couldn't do that. Stan obviously didn't care. He was still smiling. It was now kind of freaking me out. He wasn't really looking at anything anymore. And his smile didn't look... _happy_. It looked somber. Like a poor excuse at a smile when you were forced to do so. "Stan...?" I mumbled. Stan turned his head to me, his eyes a bit glazed over and he rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly, his eyes closed.

"Sort of spaced out," he mumbled. I kept my gaze locked on him until he opened his eyes. When he did, his smile halted completely and he looked a little guilty. "We're going to be seniors," he muttered, looking down at the floor. He seemed to find his old Hot Wheels extremely fascinating for he picked it up and started to fiddle with the wheels. "Doesn't it seem so... weird? We're going to be seniors. And after that... then what? Is everyone just going to up and leave?" he gave me a look. A half-dreading, half-pleading look. "I don't know what I'm going to be doing after all of this, Kyle. I've never really considered it. It's just... everything's going to change," he looked forlornly down at his Hot Wheels and began to run it over his knees, watching it intently. I grimaced at him. I didn't think he really cared. He was more of a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Stan would deal with things when they came up. "How do you have all this shit figured out, Kyle? How do you know if it's not a bad decision?" he looked at me pleadingly and I honestly couldn't give him an answer. I looked away from him and shrugged.

"I... I just _do_, man," I sighed. "I mean, it just kind of happened. I mean, I want to get out of this damn town as much of the next guy. I know that I need to _do_ something about that though. I know it won't just happen. I have to work towards getting where I want to go," I explained. I didn't like how the entire air in the room had visibly darkened. How there was now this heavy weight over both of us. That there was this unspoken topic that we needed to talk about. A topic that neither of us knew what it was. It was just there, this overhanging weight.

"Is everything going to change, Kyle? It just feels like everything is going to fall apart," he fell into my shoulder, his eyes fixed forward. I'd seen this part of Stan a few times. When his parents divorced the first time when he was ten. When Sparky died. When Wendy broke up with him. Again.

"I hope not," I sighed deeply, looking towards Stan's window. It was nearly dusk.

"Kyle," Stan's voice had gone gruff. His head was beginning to get heavy but I was pretty sure he didn't plan on moving it. I hummed an acknowledgement, not keen on speaking at the moment. "Let's promise each other that whatever happens, it doesn't change what we have?" he proposed it like a question. I would have been fine with just a statement. But this required me to answer.

"Yeah," I answered, closing my eyes and smiling the tiniest bit.

"Super best friends forever, right?" I felt his body move in a chuckle and he was smiling again. Still not quite as happy as a smile should be.

"Yeah," I found my gaze gravitating towards the television screen and its 'You Win!' banner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Ah, I know I should give it time… But I do love reviews and was expecting more. Nevertheless, I'll keep posting this. So yeah… I've decided to post this on a weekly basis so the next chapter should be up in about a week, possibly earlier. But yeah, enjoy you guys!**

* * *

_And I wonder_  
_Are you puttin' us under?_  
_'Cause we can't take our eyes_  
_Off the T-shirt and ties combination_  
_Well, see you later, innovator  
_

Brianstorm, Arctic Monkeys

* * *

My eyes narrowed down at my cell phone screen. This was bullshit. Stan could be such an asshole sometimes. Here I was, waiting for him in the front of the school like usual, and then, twenty minutes later he texts and says he can't make it? _It's bullshit_! I kicked the wall, glaring in annoyance.

"He at least should have told me earlier. I could have gotten a ride!" I grumbled.

"Kyle?" Kenny's familiar voice drifted down the hall. The blond, handsome as always, sauntered down the scuffed linoleum floor, his hands shoved into his pockets and an eyebrow cocked quizzically. "Why're you still here?" he asked. Kenny's turquoise eyes bore into me, the sharp aqua color shocking me like always.

"Ah... Well, Stan..." I muttered, looking ashamedly away. It was so lame, not having a ride home. We were seniors. But my parents wouldn't let me have my own car. They thought I was going to crash it.

"Makes sense. The douche..." mumbled Kenny. "Need a ride?"

I almost considered declining. Kenny's truck was a nightmare. Every time I got into it I swore I was going to die a slow and painful death. But it was fucking cold out and I really didn't want to walk all the way home.

"Why not?" I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. Kenny smirked at me, or at least, his eyes did. His lips were hidden by his muffler. Those expressive blue eyes of his sparkled with a bright light, his fair eyebrows raised into his hairline.

"What kind of answer is 'why not'?" he inquired, laughing a bit and slinging his arm around my shoulder and pulling his hood over his head. Kenny was a lot taller than me now. When we were eight he was pretty dang tiny, but he'd hit this gigantic growth-spurt in ninth grade and was now only short compared to Stan and Craig. I guess I was the short kid now. Well, along with Butters and Tweek. But I didn't like being considered one of the 'short ones'. I was already made fun of by Cartman for being Jewish, and everyone else called me a nerd. I didn't need to be 'that short little Jewish nerd' too. I pushed Kenny off of me, my mood worsening. My lips were set in a firm, frustrated line. Kenny was silent, his laughs stopping the moment I pushed him. I could feel him staring at me. Somehow you just always _knew _when Kenny was staring at you. The snow was falling in big, large clumps. _Great. This is going to do wonders for my hair._ I didn't care _overly _much about my appearance. I wasn't one of those kinds of guys. But I did care when Cartman commented on my 'Jew-fro'. It drove me to the brink of insanity. I grit my teeth, my expression something similar to when my mom gets pissed off at me when I don't clean my room. Kenny punched me lightly in the arm. I glared up at him.

"You okay?" he asked. He always knew when something was wrong. Not that I was good at hiding when I was mad. I had possibly the worst poker face on the planet. But Kenny could even tell when people like _Craig _were upset. I shrugged his concerns off. I didn't want him to get involved. Things had been weird between Stan and me lately. He'd been oddly distant from me and today wasn't the first time he'd left me at school alone. Come to think of it, the last time I was left at school it was Kenny who picked me up.

"Why are you at school so late anyways? I'd think you'd be out the door the moment the bell rang," the words just kind of fell out of my mouth. We were at Kenny's car now. I saw him sneer as he walked around to the driver's side. I hopped into his beater truck. I honestly didn't even know what _kind _of car it was, it was that beaten up. Kenny looked a thoughtful when I slid in next to him.

"Let's just say I'm here in case Stan ditches my cute little nerdy Jew," he said, smiling at me in a way that was supposed to be friendly as he began to back out of the parking space. I gave him an annoyed look. Just what I didn't want people to call me. If Cartman had heard Kenny say that it would definitely stick. Well, maybe except for the 'cute' part. The engine of Kenny's car sputtered as he shifted into first gear and there was an awful, earthshaking vibration sent through the entire cabin. We both gave each other an identically baffled, wary look before he continued forward.

I didn't really want to talk to Kenny today. Frankly, I just wanted to bitch at Stan for making me wait. He didn't even tell me what he was doing. Kenny turned the music up, obviously finding my lack of words frustrating. He pushed back his hood and shook the snow out of his now slightly damp blond locks. He looked a bit irritated, like he wanted to punch someone.

"You know," muttered Kenny after minutes of silence. _Damn South Park and its distance from school to home_. "Stan's being a real flake to you, Kyle," grumbled Kenny, his eyes shifting over and finding me. He still looked annoyed and his eyes showed it. "I'm always free after school, man, why don't you just get a ride home from me?" he offered. I blinked at him. Kenny never offered frequent rides to anyone. He barely let Stan near his car, let alone in it. If I thought critically, Kenny only ever let me, Butters, sometimes Craig, and any girl he could find walking down the side of the road into his car. Cartman wasn't allowed within fifty feet of the truck. Kenny said that it was because Cartman's gravitational force would smash his car to smithereens.

"It's okay," I sighed, shrugging. "It's only every now and then. Besides, you don't even live very close to me, Kenny. You'd be going out of your way," I retorted. Kenny blinked languidly and pressed his lips together contemplatively. Kenny's engine sputtered again and the blond hit the dashboard harder than he needed to, glaring malevolently.

"Piece of junk," he muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. I raised my eyebrows. Kenny was acting really weird today. I groaned and looked out of my window, annoyed at anyone and everyone. "What?" demanded Kenny, his voice harsh.

"You both are so fucking annoying!" I snapped, finally flipping a bitch. Kenny reeled back, swerving his car in his violent movement. I didn't even notice and I crossed my arms across my chest. "First Stan starts to act fucking weird around me. Now _you too_? Honestly, am I going to have to hang out with _Cartman _in order to actually get some fucking _normalcy_? You all are driving me insane!" I huffed out an angry breath and fumed silently in my seat.

"I'm not acting any fucking different, Kyle! Fuck you! You're just all pissy because Stan is too busy to drive you the fuck home!" snapped Kenny. I glared malignantly at him, his comment making me want to punch him. "Stan is always going to be that selfish bastard who only cares about himself. Get it through your little red head that maybe super best friends doesn't fucking cut it. He can't take care of you for-fucking-ever, Kyle!" Kenny gripped his steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. "Not everything revolves around Stan. He certainly thinks it does. But it doesn't. There's loads of bullshit more important that Stan Fucking Marsh."

I'd known that ever since the end of eleventh grade, Kenny and Stan had basically cut off all ties with each other. No one really knew the reason but they just absolutely wouldn't talk to each other. Their silence between each other lasted until mid summer. They still don't really talk but for the sake of our group they stick around each other. I wanted to know what had driven such a large stake between two of my best friends. It was obviously something big. It made it hard to talk about one of them in the other's company because they'd both complain like a bitch about it. Stan was worse than Kenny. He'd go on _tangents _about how annoying Kenny was. I didn't really know what to do with either of them anymore.

"Goddammit Kyle. How haven't you realized that Stan is a fucking self-centered brat? I knew he was an arrogant asshole, even when we were kids, but it's just spawned like a fucking fungus and grown into the hideous monster that's now Stan," he rolled his eyes.

"Stan's still _my friend _Kenny. I know you don't consider him one anymore but that doesn't mean that you can dis him in front of me! Yeah, Stan's arrogant. But that's just the way he is. He's arrogant, you're intrusive, Cartman's a sociopath, and I'm just a little nerdy Jew boy. It's who we are. So just _deal _with it," I stressed, shaking my head.

"Hah. Your _friend," _chuckled Kenny, shaking his head back and forth. "That's the biggest amount of bullshit I've heard all day!" I didn't get what the blond meant. _Of course Stan and I were friends. What else __would __we be?_ I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Why did you guys stop being friends in the first place? What happened last year?" I asked out-of-the-blue. Kenny blinked at me stonily. Then he smiled. That _knowing _smile. The kind where he knew something about you. Something big. It was also the smile that meant he wasn't going to tell me.

"You'll find out eventually," he said forebodingly. I'd just noticed that we were at my house. Kenny was still smiling at me. Mocking me.

I finally realized that I had something to do with them not being friends. That's the only thing that that smile could _possibly _mean. I opened the door and jumped out, looking back to find that Kenny was smirking at me. "What..." I started. Kenny didn't let me finish as he reached over and slammed the door shut, saluting me goodbye before speeding off.

_Them not being friends... Has to do with me? But... what?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Ah jeez! I'm so sorry I was late in updating this! I've been moving to a new house these past few days and I didn't have internet access yesterday! Not to mention I had to add a lot to this chapter It used to be only around 900 words! O_o" So yeah, sorry about my lateness. The rest should all be a bit more on schedule. This chapter is a bit of an in-between kind of transition chapter so it's a bit short but bear with me ^^" I love all of my reviewers and viewers, you guys are the best!**

* * *

_Some want to kiss, some want to kick you_  
_There's not a net you couldn't slip through_  
_Or at least that's the impression I get_  
_'Cause you're smooth and you're wet_  
_And she's not aware yet but she's yours_

~Brianstorm, Arctic Monkeys

* * *

_"Did you get home all right?"_

_"I did after you told me you weren't coming. Twenty minutes late."_

_"Sorry. Who did you get a ride from?"_

_"Kenny."_

_"Why would you get a ride from Kenny?!"_

_"Because he isn't a douchebag that's twenty minutes late to telling me he isn't coming."_

I stopped Stan and my conversation there, snapping my phone shut and throwing it on my bed. Stan was going to call when I didn't respond to his next text. But I wasn't going to pick up. I was pissed off at him. He wasn't telling me something. This hadn't happened to us before. We're the fucking 'super best friends'; we don't _have_ secrets between us. I threw myself onto my bed, burying my head in my arms and taking in the smell of freshly washed sheets. It was all so weird. Stan said that our friendship wasn't going to change. _You lied, Stan..._ I sat up when my phone rang. I knew that ringtone. I stared down at Stan's name. My thumb hovered over the answer button, waggling back and forth in temptation. I threw my phone down and shook my head. No, it wasn't worth it. I couldn't just give into him like that. I didn't have to forgive him, not when he was being like this.

"Kyle! It's time for you to study, bubblyboo!" my mother called from downstairs. I groaned and fell back onto my bed. The phone had stopped ringing. I felt as if I had done the wrong thing. Like I should have picked up. _If I ask him, will he tell me what's going on? _I thought pensively, my eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. _Not likely. Something tells me this isn't going to be an easy thing to get him to tell me_.

My mother opened the door and peeked in. "Bubblyboo?" she inquired, entering the room to find me looking frustrated on my bed. I wasn't studying. I wasn't doing anything. Just looking irritated with life. "Is everything all right?" she sat next to me as I righted myself, looking down at my lap. She hadn't changed a bit, she was the same, overly-loving, highly-opinionated redhead from Jersey that she'd always been. And that's what I loved about her. But I didn't need her cares right now. I didn't need her in my business.

"Yeah..." I sighed. "Don't worry about me mom, just friend stuff..." She looked at me worriedly then smiled and nodded, rubbing my back comfortingly before leaving me alone.

I was halfway through my AP Calculus homework when the door to my room opened again. I glanced up, my glasses falling down my nose. I felt a jolt go through my body when I saw Stan, standing in my doorway, looking pissed.

"Why didn't you answer?!" he seethed. I raised my eyebrows skeptically, turning to face him. He was wearing his workout clothes, a black Raging Pussies t-shirt and long, navy basketball shorts. What bothered me was that he was wearing two different socks. One was a dark blue half-calf, and the other was black. He saw me looking and grimaced.

"Why didn't you call me earlier when I needed a ride home?" I countered after my hesitation. Stan glared at me then scoffed, shaking his head and looking towards my door, his arms crossing huffily over his chest.

"That doesn't mean you had to get a ride with Kenny!" he snapped, his head whipping back towards me, his glare intensely angry. "Kenny's a nosy little asshole! You shouldn't have to get a ride from him of all people. I'd rather you get a ride from Cartman than Kenny!" he fumed.

"Doesn't matter what you think. If you really didn't want me to get a ride with Kenny you'd have given me a ride home," I sighed, shrugging my shoulders and leaning back in my chair, looking placidly at the window. Really, I wanted to be looking anywhere but at him. "Did you really come all the way here to tell me that?" I asked, turning back to my homework, trying to appear too busy for his bullshit.

Stan hesitated, his anger vanishing in a flash. "What's wrong with you lately, Kyle?" he muttered, his fists clenched. I glanced over at him but he wasn't looking at me, he was looking towards my door, a conflicted expression on his face.

"What's wrong with _me_? Excuse me but you're the asshole here, Stan. You're the one that's changed," I mumbled, furrowing my brows contemplatively. "Maybe you haven't noticed but the past three weeks I've had to get rides home from someone other than you. Maybe I should take up Kenny's offer. Maybe you're just too busy with yourself," I didn't mean to say that so coldly but it must have come out as so because Stan gave me an infuriated look. He also looked unbelievably hurt. It was probably because I had used the same words as Kenny always did when he described Stan.

"Well sorry, Kyle! I can't fucking help it if my coach decides to have fucking weight training! I can't cater to your every whim!" he retorted violently, his hurt turning into even more anger.

"Then you have no right to tell me who to get my ride home from!" I countered, now standing up and looking at Stan crossly. Stan blinked at me, then looked slowly away, his lips in a tense, contemplative pout.

"I guess I don't," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse, his eyes lowering towards the floor. "But don't get a ride from Kenny, Kyle," he looked up at me, his gaze desperate. That was an expression I rarely saw on his face. _He really doesn't like Kenny… does he?_

"Why?" I asked hardly, crossing my arms across my chest. Stan met my gaze for a fraction of a second before looking away. Maybe I could get it out of him, get him to tell me exactly what the hell was going on.

"Because he's an asshole..." muttered Stan, rubbing his arm uncomfortably and not looking me in the eye. I gaped at him. So he was going to just brush off my question like that? Bullshit!

"Don't give me that shit, Stan! There's something going on and you fucking know it! It's more than Kenny's assholishness. I _know_ that you guys not being friends has something to do with me. So _what_? What the fuck does this have to do with me? Tell me what the hell is going on!" I'd lost my patience with Stan. He wasn't telling me anything straight. And I wanted to _know, _goddammit.

Stan was now staring at me. No, he was staring _through_ me. He'd practically frozen in place, his indigo eyes locked on a nonexistent place behind me. "Ah..." his mouth was open, as if he was going to continue. However, then he pivoted on his heel and left the room, his face shocked and grim.

"Stan!" I called after him. "What the fuck!" I chased after him, but he'd already made it out the door. "Stan!" I cried, baffled at his behavior. Stan turned, saw me running to catch up and him gave me a horrified look. I stopped a few feet away from him, my gaze confused. "Sta-"

Stan ran away from me in a dead sprint.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: GAH! I'm so sorry for being this late! It completely slipped my mind the day it was supposed to come out! I've been moving and everything's a little hectic over here. So sorry for the delay. I'll get chapter 5 out on time, which would be Monday, so you won't have to wait for it. Please read and review, I love hearing what you guys have to say about this!**

* * *

_She'll be sayin', "Use me_  
_Show me the jacuzzi"_  
_I imagine that it's there on a plate_  
_Your whole rendezvous rate means that_  
_You'll never be frightened to make them wait_  
_For a while_

~Brianstorm, Arctic Monkeys

* * *

"Butters?" I twirled one of my curly red locks with my finger, pouting my lips. I'd called him in a panic after Stan ran away from me.

"Y-Yes, Kyle?" stammered Butters. He'd been silent after I'd screamed something incomprehensible into the receiver.

"I'm just going to say this straight. Do you know what's going on with Stan and Kenny? There's something they aren't telling me. Did they tell you anything perhaps?" I rubbed a hand over my forehead, playing with a pencil.

Tic, tic, tic. The pencil tip hit the counter in a steady, rhythmic motion.

"Oh, golly, are you talking about them not being friends, Kyle?" he said. I could imagine him twiddling his thumbs as he said this. I narrowed my eyes. _So he _does_ know…_

"Y-yeah," I muttered.

Tic, tic, tic tic, tic, tic, tic tic. The pencil's rhythm changed.

"Ah, well, I'm sorry Kyle. But Kenny told me not to tell you anything. Even called earlier today just to remind me. Isn't that nice? Oh, and Stan also threatened me about it a few months ago, real scary-like..."

Tic tic tic tic tic, tic tic tic tic. The pencil had gradually escalated to sixteenth notes.

"So you do know?!" I shouted into the phone.

"Ah, well... In a sense. But-But, Kyle, y-you aren't going to get a word out of me! I-I promised Kenny I wouldn't tell and Stan... H-he'd hurt me if I did!"

"Butters, I swear to fucking God..." I felt like throwing my phone. "If you know anything you better tell me!" I snapped, slamming my fist on the desk, snapping the pencil in half.

"Well... I'm sorry Kyle... But I can't. Have you considered asking them?"

"I already _have _Butters. Why do you think I'd be calling you? They won't tell me a thing! You're my last resort, Butters," I mumbled.

"Kyle. I can't," repeated Butters, sounding defeated. "I-I'm sure, that if it is important, they'll tell you soon," he assured me, his voice supportive. I scoffed. It didn't seem likely. Stan's kept little secrets from me before and he only told me what it was _months _after it didn't matter anymore. If it was something _big _he was _never _going to tell me.

"Is it really that important? Is it such a horrible thing that they have to keep it from me? At least tell me that, Butters. Tell me there is a fucking reason behind their idiocy."

"Oh, it's important all right. And one day, they'll tell you. I promise you that, Kyle," he assured me, I could envision him nodding his head vigorously to his comment. I grit my teeth. That wasn't as satisfying as I thought it'd be.

"Fine. Thanks Butters," I sighed, slamming my phone shut in my hand. I placidly tapped it in my hand, contemplating the information I was given. Obviously it was something important or they wouldn't bother hiding it from me. But this was Stan we were talking about. And _Kenny_. It was weird that they both were hiding the same thing. What that exactly was completely escaped my logical mind. I knew I shouldn't think too much about it. It was going to drive myself insane if I thought about it any longer. I shook my head and threw my phone on my bed, leaving it there. If I kept it with me I would be compelled to call someone else.

"Bubbly-boo, where are you going?" called my mother, poking her head out of the kitchen door. I looked back at her, shrugged, and then walked out of the front door. I'd just started to walk. I didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't have a destination. I was just walking. Nothing more. It was cold out. I felt like an idiot, being out in thirty degree late-September weather in only a t-shirt and jeans was really freaking stupid. I rubbed my hand up my arm, letting the frigid air cool my over-heating head.

I didn't know how to deal with all of this. Stan acting like a douche, Kenny being a weird asshole, and worst of all, _Butters_ of all people knew what they were hiding from me. _Why would they choose to tell Butters instead of me? _I sighed majestically, stopping where I stood. I wasn't too sure where I was. It was stupid that I'd walked in a random direction. I looked around me, only finding trees. I'd walked into the fucking forest like a dumbass. I glanced down at my converse-clad feet that were sinking feet below the wet snow. I grimaced. _Am I a fucking idiot_? It was then that I realized I was crying. Great, now I was a pussy too. I wiped the hot tears off of my cheek and choked in a breath, panting heavily. It was all too fucked up. When had we all grown so far apart? _Why_ had we all grown so far apart? It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were all supposed to be friends. It was always supposed to be me, Stan, Kenny and fuck, even Cartman. Us four. Always. But then Kenny had to go and fight with Stan and fuck it up for all of us. On top of that, we'd all had enough of Cartman by seventh grade and he'd fallen out of our tightly knit group. It had only left Stan and me. I felt like my whole world was falling apart. I put a hand up to my forehead. I was supposed to be the calm one. The one who had their _shit_ figured out. It was fucking stupid. I glared at nothing in particular. This entire situation had somehow made me even more pissed off than before. And I had no one to talk to about it.

I didn't know what could have possibly possessed me to do what I was about to do but there I fucking was, in front of fucking Cartman's house, about to knock on his fucking door. I turned in a circle regretting even standing on his porch. Why couldn't I just figure my shit out by myself? Why did I need help? And from _Cartman_ of all people! We weren't even friends anymore!

"Are you just going to stand on my fucking porch all day or are you going to knock, Jew boy?" I grimaced and whirled around to meet Cartman's incriminating sneer. I didn't know how long he'd been watching me but it was enough for me to feel creeped out. Cartman leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his wide chest. His hazel eyes met my green ones and I instantly averted my gaze. But that one look was enough. "Oh god fucking dammit. You're here to bitch about your fucking little boyfriend Stan, aren't you?!" he snapped angrily. I felt my face heat up in anger.

"Stop _saying_ that!" I hissed. Cartman found it fun to tease Stan and me and call us 'boyfriends'. This was ludicrous and a lie. First of all, Stan and I weren't like that. We were best friends. Nothing more. Second of all, Cartman only did it to piss me off. I was the only one that reacted when Cartman teased us about it. Stan usually stayed strangely quiet when the joke was made or he'd leave the room. "I don't have time for your faggy little problems, Kahl," he growled, narrowing his eyes. "Talk to Keeny or Butters or one of your other gay little friends. Leave me the fuck out of it," he began to close the door but I jammed my foot in the way.

"I..." I stumbled on the right words. What if Cartman knew? Would he tell me without remorse? However much I wanted to know I honestly couldn't think of anything more revolting than finding out from Cartman. "I just wanted to borrow your car. Just for a bit," I said without warning. Cartman deadpanned me, his brown eyebrows rising into his bangs.

"What for, Jew?" he asked curiously. I was surprised he was even considering it.

"I wanna... Drive... Somewhere. Anywhere. I just need to get out of this fucking town," I gave him a desperate look. Cartman scoffed.

"As if, bitch," he flipped me off. "I'd never let a fucking Jew drive my car. I don't care what you want," he paused as he soaked in my disappointment. "Go find someone else to listen to your fucking rants, Jew boy," Cartman turned and slammed the door in my face. I stared at the closed door, mouth agape in shock. He was being more of an asshole than usual. I grit my teeth and stormed away from his house. Cartman was such an annoying asshole. Even after all the years of torture, I _still _tolerate being friendly to him but he won't even let me drive his fucking car! I knew that my ranting and raving wasn't only because of Cartman's stubbornness. I hadn't really wanted to drive his car anywhere. I just really wanted someone to talk to.

"Serves me right for going to that douchebag's house to begin with," I muttered to myself, pulling my ushanka on tighter. I realized that I was passing Stan's house and my heart rate instantly doubled. Stan's house wasn't anywhere near Cartman's house. Had I unconsciously walked here in my nonsensical rage? I gulped and tried to hurry past but it was too late. I'd been spotted.

"Hey," I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly to find Stan, standing in front of his car with his keys in his hand. He looked apologetically at me and then tore his gaze away. "What are you doing here, Kyle?" he asked softly. I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. _What do I tell him? That I'd been in a fucking hissy fit since he left and had been roaming the town looking for someone to confide in?_

"No- No reason," I stammered, looking sheepishly away. My eyes gravitated towards his keys, then slowly made their way up to the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. _What is he doing? _"What's with the duffel bag?" I managed a dry chuckle. However, this seemed to put Stan more on edge.

"It's nothing," he said quickly, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He turned back to his truck and began to fiddle with the lock. "Do you have something to say or are you just going to stand there?" he really seemed to be struggling with the lock. I'd always known that his locking system was finicky but never this bad. I gulped in a large breath of air. I really didn't have anything I needed to say directly to Stan. There's not much I _could _say.

"I..." I looked for the right words, looking up and searching the sky for answers. "I... er... talked to Butters," I muttered. _What the fuck...? Where did that come from? _I mentally hit myself for such a random comment. But, apparently, my words weren't so random to Stan. The keys in his hand instantly dropped to the ground, vanishing under the snowy layer.

"Dammit," he mumbled, crouching down and ignoring me completely.

"Stan, I want to know what's going on," I sighed, gripping my hands into fists. Stan stopped searching, his hands still submerged in snow and was simply frozen in place, staring down at the ground. This was driving me completely insane. I wasn't getting any answers. It's as if everyone knew everything but _me_. "I..."

"What... What did he say?" Stan's voice cracked on the first word and he proceeded more cautiously. Having not found his keys he stood up, wiping the snow off on his jeans. He was glaring at me. "What did Butters tell you?" I stared at my best friend. Stan'd never looked at me like that before and I sure as hell didn't like it.

"Well Butters said fucking nothing!" I hissed. "He said that Kenny told him to keep quiet and that _you _threatened him? What's this all about, Stan?" I yelled. Stan looked away from me.

"Fuck off, Kyle," he flipped me off before walking swiftly back into his house. I stood in dumbfounded shock in his driveway. _Stan told me to fuck off. Stan's _never _told me to fuck off! What the hell is wrong with him! _I could feel angry tears coming to my eyes. And then my eyes gravitated towards the snowy ground next to Stan's car. _Stan's... car... _

It was stupid. It was downright one of the stupidest things I'd ever done but I honestly didn't care at the time. I frantically searched in the snow and came up almost immediately with Stan's keys that he'd given up on finding. Jamming the key in the door I wiggled it until it finally popped open and I launched myself inside. _Gotta move fast. Gotta move fast. _I kept repeating the same three words in my head over and over again. It was nearly 7:00 and it was already dark out. But where I was going, you didn't want it to be light.

Stan's truck roared to life and I careened out of his driveway. Unaccustomed to driving such a big car - after all, my parents own a Prius and I'd only driven it a few times - I overcompensated and knocked down the Marsh's mail box. Hearing the commotion Stan ran out of his house and gaped at me, his eyes wide in shock. I idled for a moment, glaring at Stan from behind the window. Stan yelled something but I couldn't hear from behind the roar of the engine. I didn't want to hear. Shooting him one last glare I flipped him off and gunned the acceleration, leaving a cloud of snow in my wake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**: **Okay. I can't explain. I really can. I was on vacation for the past week-ish. School's about to start and I haven't even started my summer homework. This should have been posted a while ago, I'm sorry to keep you waiting! Oh. And I've never been to Denver or Colfax or anything so I really don't know what it's like, especially at night. I researched it a bit and went with my gut and what I needed for the story. So yeah, I'm sorry for the wait, this chapter is longer than the others so that should hopefully make up for it! Thanks! I love you all~**

* * *

_I doubt it's your style_  
_Not to get what you set out to acquire_  
_The eyes are on fire_  
_You are the unforecasted storm_

~Brianstorm, Arctic Monkeys

* * *

After nearly an hour of driving on the highway at speeds I really shouldn't have been going at, my head was beginning to cool down. I was realizing just how fucking stupid my plan was. What the hell was I going to do in Denver? In my rage, Denver was the only city I could think of and that was where I was headed. As a group, we'd all gone to Denver a few times to ditch class but that was during the day. I'd never been to Denver at night and I only knew a few people that _had_. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, feeling compelled to just turn around and go back. But I wasn't one for quitting. "There's always something to do in Denver," I assured myself, looking out the window to watch cars going the other direction. I tossed my ushanka off, throwing it unceremoniously in the passenger seat. This was without a doubt, the craziest thing I'd ever done. I'd always been a stickler for rules and just _driving _in a car alone was enough to make me go insane. But here I was, in Stan's car that I _stole_, driving down the _highway _alone, without even my fucking _permit_ in the case of being pulled over. On top of that I was heading to fucking _Denver_.

As I approached the outskirts of the city, my phone buzzed. Guessing it was Stan, I immediately ignored it. He'd been calling me non-stop since I drove away from his house. I couldn't even _imagine _how pissed off he was; this car was like his fucking _baby_. But I didn't care. Stan had pissed me off and this was how I got back at him. I stopped the car, parking it next to a small, pitiful looking tree where I hoped I'd remember it, and hopped out. I was already overwhelmed.

This obviously wasn't the _good _side of Denver. I could see prostitutes and hookers on the streets. Or at least, they _looked _that way. Maybe that was just how they dressed. Drunkards fell over themselves, some of them vomiting in the alleyways. Homeless people rested themselves against the building walls, looking almost lifeless. I didn't know what time it was, or what kind of people would be here. But it wasn't good. It most definitely wasn't good. The entire air of this city was filled with sin. I couldn't quite remember, but I was pretty sure that Jimmy had been around here before. He'd relayed a story about his adventures in Denver. We didn't believe him though. Maybe I should have.

"Hey, are you lookin' for a good time?" two women sauntered up to me, dressed in skin-tight dresses, ripped fishnets and high heels. I was frozen in place. The severity of my mistake was finally sinking in. These women were prostitutes. I wasn't meant to be here. The blonde came up behind me and grabbed my ass, smiling at me and batting her eyelashes. "You're a cute one, aren't ya? How old are ya?" she giggled, breathing a heavy mixture of booze and cigarettes into my face. I coughed, shrinking away from her.

"T-that's none of your business," I stammered, trying to get away. The brunette grabbed my elbow and fluttered her eyelashes like the other.

"Aw, come on sweetie," she said in a sickly sweet voice. "We'll show ya a good time, don't you worry about it," she ran her fingers through my hair and I could feel my resolve getting weaker. I didn't know how to deal with women like this. It was their _job _to act like this but it wasn't like I had nerves of steel. It's not like I knew how to deal with this.

"No, I _really _don't want to," I protested, just wanting to get back in Stan's car and drive home.

"Don't be afraid, honey, we'll take good care of ya," assured the blonde, twirling my hair with her finger.

"I've never had such a young customer, it'll be a treat," added the brunette, squeezing my shoulders and softly pecking me on my neck. I was beginning to get really afraid. Everything about this place just resonated evil in my mind and I was now trapped in it. It was then that I heard the shouts. I looked up just in time to see a winded Stan shove the two women off of me. Behind him, Kenny jogged up, his eyebrows cocked comically. Stan grabbed my elbow and wrenched me away.

"What the _fuck _is going on?" growled Stan, his eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Ya here to join the party?" asked the brunette seductively, reaching over to run her hand over Stan's collarbone. Stan gulped, flustered for a moment then stepped away, dragging me with him.

"How'd you find me?" I asked, my eyes wide. I was grateful that someone had come to save me but the fact that it was Stan made this entire situation much, _much _worse. Stan didn't answer me; he was busy glaring at the women.

"He's fucking seventeen! You want me to have you arrested you goddamn whore!" he shouted, seething in anger. I narrowed my eyes. I didn't need Stan to be mothering me. Sure, I was happy that I'd been taken out of that situation but I didn't need any more. Kenny had stayed silent; I wasn't even quite sure why he was there. He was eyeing the prostitutes strangely. Maybe he was considering fucking them. I gave him a disgusted look and he shrugged, smirking slightly at me. He had a strange light in his eyes and he looked away from me, still smirking. "Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops!" threatened Stan, still thoroughly pissed. The women gave the tall noirette a strange look before walking off, complaining about the hassle of it all.

"Sta-"

"Get in the car," he growled, he'd somehow pick pocketed his keys from my jeans and was shoving me towards his car.

"How'd you find me, Stan?" I demanded, feeling utterly ashamed at myself. Stan didn't answer me; he was glaring angrily at his car.

"Yo, Stan. What the fuck am I supposed to do!" complained Kenny, now glaring at Stan malevolently.

"It's your fucking car Kenny, go drive it home!" snapped Stan, pushing me into the passenger seat. This was honestly the most interaction those two had had in months. The fact that they survived the two-hour drive to Denver was beyond me. _How did they not kill each other?_

"You asshole! I fucking drove you here, Kyle should come with me!" snapped Kenny. Stan whirled around, pissed off beyond comprehension.

"This isn't the fucking time for your goddamn _bitching, _Kenny!" he yelled, gripping his hands into fists. I watched them both, still in shock to the entire situation. Kenny was glaring at Stan, his aqua eyes bright in anger and his teeth ground together.

"If it wasn't for me, we could have never gotten here!" he shouted, gripping his hands into fists. People on the street were staring at us. I felt entirely miserable towards life. My two best friends were fighting because of my stupid mistake.

"Fuck you, Kenny, the world doesn't revolve around _you!" _snapped Stan.

"That's rich coming from you, you goddamn narcissist!" protested Kenny, walking over and pushing Stan. Infuriated, Stan pushed the blond back, causing the smaller boy to stumble to regain his balance. This was getting ridiculous.

"Stop it!" I yelled finally, jumping from the car seat. Stan and Kenny stopped fighting to stare at me. "Stop fucking fighting!" I was tired of all of this and I just wanted to go home. "Can we just go home please?" I gave them a pleading look. Stan and Kenny cast each other a look. They held their gaze a fraction too long and Kenny finally scoffed and waved his hand in dismissal as he walked back down the street towards where he'd parked.

"Let's go," growled Stan, shoving me back towards the car. I let out a sigh and climbed in. Stan started the car, pointedly avoiding my gaze.

We sat in silence for the first thirty minutes. I was grateful for the silence. The last thing I wanted was to be interrogated by Stan on how fucking stupid I was. I knew I'd made a mistake. I realized that my heart was beating incredibly fast. I tried to breathe to calm myself down but it didn't seem to be working very well. I looked out of the window as Stan sped up, going faster than I wanted him to.

"Stan..." I finally spoke up, my voice cracking from having not spoken in a while.

"Just what the _fuck_ were you thinking, Kyle?" he snapped. I jumped at his harsh tone and gave him an innocent look.

"I..."

"No, Kyle, don't fucking speak! How the hell could you steal my car and go to fucking Colfax? Are you insane? You're a goddamn idiot did you know that? I chased you on foot for ten blocks! I had to get a ride from goddamn Kenny because _you_ stole my fucking truck! Don't make me even start on how fucking hard it was to find out where the hell you were going! What do you think would have happened if I didn't find you, Kyle? Can your precious little mind even comprehend the severity of what you just did? You could have gotten hurt. Denver isn't like South Park, Kyle. It's the real fucking world out there. Just... Goddammit," he cut himself off, glaring out of his window. The world was flying by as Stan continued to accelerate. I stared at him, tears forming in the corner of my eyes. I knew all of that. I knew what a stupid dumbass I was. But having Stan yell at me after all of this was just too much. The tears finally spilled over and I turned my head from him, feeling horrible about myself. I'd been such an asshole lately. I was like a fucking hormonal girl and yet Stan still raced to find me after all I'd said to him. I sniffled wiping the tears from my cheeks with my sleeves.

I then noticed that Stan had pulled over and was staring at me. Feeling immediately self conscious I attempted to turn myself away from him and open the car door in order to escape but Stan had locked the doors. Realizing I was trapped I slowly turned back towards Stan. My eyes felt heavy and puffy. This was fucking pathetic. I didn't want to cry in front of Stan. I didn't consider him my friend right now. And I definitely did not consider him my super best friend.

"Le-Let me go, Stan," I begged. I'd flag down Kenny, if he was behind us. I'd even hitchhike. Anything to get away from Stan Marsh. Stan said nothing; he just stared at me with a sad look on his face. "Li-Listen, I know I fucked up. You don't need to lecture me anymore. J-just please let me go," I pleaded, giving him a pitiful look. I felt so vulnerable. I wasn't able to think straight. I put both of my hands up to my hairline, gripping my curly ginger locks and tugging at them in frustration. "I'm so tired of all this bullshit!" I yelled, looking at him desperately. "I'm fucking tired of it! Stan, please just tell me what's going on or leave me the fuck alone! I can't deal with all of this, man," the tears were back. Everything was just going to pour out of me and there was no way I could stop it. "I thought this year wasn't going to be different for us. I didn't think we were going to change. I don't know what's going on but I feel like I've lost my best friend! And it's like everyone knows what's going on except for _me_! I fucking deserve to know, dammit. After all of this shit… But you refuse to tell me!" my voice had risen about two octaves and I was curled up in a little ball on my seat. Stan still hadn't said a word. I unraveled myself and stared straight into Stan's eyes, trying to decipher what I wasn't understanding just through the look in his eyes. But his expression didn't reveal anything but guilt and anger. This was all just too much. Angry beyond logical sense I gripped my hand into a fist and threw a punch, connecting sharply with Stan's nose. Stan cried out in pain and looked at me wildly as I aimed another punch.

"Kyle, stop it!" he cried, grabbing my fist. I twisted out of his grip and screamed angrily as I hit him in the gut. Somewhere among all the punches, tears and screams, Stan had grabbed hold of my arms and was now pushing me back from him. "Kyle!" he shouted, slamming my back against the window of his truck. My legs flailed wildly underneath him as I tried to escape. I gazed at him, my eyes wide and frantic. I put my frenzied hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away. "Kyle, stop it..." Stan lowered his eyes and tightened his grip on me. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my hands where shaking as I gripped his arms. "I'm sorry, okay?" he breathed. "I didn't know that this could hurt you so much. I'm sorry," he closed his eyes and lessened his grip.

"Then tell me, Stan. Tell me what the fuck is going on!" I cast a haphazard look away from him, unable to meet him in the eye.

"I... can't," protested Stan, gritting his teeth. "I know I should but I can't," he met my eyes, his gaze desperate. I narrowed my eyes angrily, almost wanting to hit him again. I pushed him off of me, looking disappointedly away. Seeing my sadness, Stan began to say something but I shook my head and pushed him away again, my throat all choked up. Stan pulled back staring at me, wondering what I was going to do next. "Kyle, I'm sorry," he murmured, a slight choked sound coming from his throat. "I _will_ tell you, Kyle. I promise, I will. But I can't right now. I simply can't. Kyle, I _promise_!" He grabbed my arm, tightly squeezing it, as if that would reassure me.

"I don't know, I don't believe you," I breathed, looking out of the windshield pensively.

"Listen, Kyle, let's just go home, get this _fucking_ night over with. And let's just forget all this shit ever happened. Please Kyle," he begged, his thumb stroking up and down in my arm. I pulled my arm away and Stan seemed to reel backwards, looking like I'd just stabbed him. I turned back to him, my eyelids heavy.

"Okay..." I leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes. Stan started the truck back up and proceeded on the highway. I watched my breath fog up the window, feeling drained from this entire night.

I woke up just as Stan was pulling up to my driveway. Wiping my hair out of my eyes I sat up, my bones aching from the uncomfortable position. I groaned, catching Stan's eye and immediately going quiet. I put my hands in my lap and stared down at them.

"Sta-"

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 7:20," he said definitively. I blinked, completely confused. Stan put a hand on my shoulder, his gaze steady. "7:20."

I closed my eyes and nodded. "7:20," I opened the door and slid out, looking back towards Stan. The noirette smiled at me. I began to turn when he called out.

"Kyle?" I looked back towards him and he gestured for me to come back. Irritated I made a point out of getting back into the car.

"What do you-" my sentence fell through when Stan put his hand on the back of my head and pulled me towards him, pressing his lips to my forehead as he did so. I froze, my entire body going ice cold. Flustered I backed away from him, eyeing him suspiciously. "W-what was that for?" Stan smiled apologetically.

"That's my promise, Kyle. I promise that I'll tell you what you want to know. Soon," he whispered. I felt my face heat up. Stan was a fucking sap. I lowered my gaze from him and nodded slowly. "7:20, Kyle," he added. Then he closed the door and drove away. I put a frantic hand on my forehead, watching his taillights wildly. I didn't know what was going on but it was getting more confusing as the day went on. And I didn't know what to think anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: UGH. You know, I won't even make an excuse. Life is just, ugh, right now… Thanks everyone for reading and keeping up with this, it means a lot right now to me. And I _love you all_. So Brianstorm is scheduled for 8 chapters, so after this there are only two left! But don't worry, the Style adventure isn't over yet, not to mention the other fics I have planned for this lovely albumfic I've written. The next fic will be _Only Ones Who Know _and will be the first installment of the Creek portion of the albumfic. Thanks you guys, for everything, I'll say it a billion trillion times, I just love all of my readers (but I especially love my reviewers :3)**

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_(Brian)_  
_Calm, collected and commanding_  
_(Top marks for not tryin')_  
_You leave the other stories standin'_  
_~Brianstorm, _Arctic Monkeys

* * *

"I said seven - fucking - twenty, Kyle!" I jolted awake when Stan yelled at me, suddenly in a room that was only occupied by me a minute earlier. Squinting my eyes I realized that the raven haired teen was actually standing in front of me, looking pissed that I was still asleep. He had one hand on his hip and his head was cocked to one side, deadpan, angry eyes stared heartlessly at my groggy form. I bolted up, eyes wide, mouth set in a horrified grimace as I slowly turned to him in shame. I'd forgotten to set my alarm. I'd _forgotten_ to _set_ my _alarm_. I _never_ forgot to set my alarm.

"SHIT!" I shouted, flinging my covers off of me and rushing around the room looking for my clothes.

"You know, when someone tells you they're going to pick you up, you might want to be _ready_ for them," sighed Stan, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, not even offering to help me.

"I fucking forgot to set my alarm, dude. Now be my fucking friend and help me get my bag together!" I yelled, pulling on a pair of rugged jeans that I may or may not have worn the day before. Stan deadpanned me, his mouth hanging open slightly in his pissy mood.

"No freaking way, man. 7:20 is 7:20. What were you, high or something, last night?" I stopped dead at his comment, giving him a recriminating look. Stan looked like he regretted his words and he looked away and towards the ground, pouting his lips childishly. He knew what happened last night. And we were _supposed_ to have _forgotten _about it. Shaking my head, I threw on a t-shirt and jacket and stumbled over to my backpack. Stan made an exasperated sound, throwing his hands up and storming out of the room. Stan may not look it, but he's one of those people that _has_ to be on time. He hates it when he's late to anything. I threw my AP Calculus textbook into my bag and sprinted after him.

I found Stan in his car, his head resting in his arms as he leaned over on his steering wheel. He was watching me with slight animosity as I jogged up to him. I pulled the door closed and fell into the seat, utterly exhausted. And it wasn't even 7:25 yet. Stan gave me a look that was probably meant to say 'it's about fucking time' but it really came off more as 'you dumbass' and started the car.

Hectic mornings like these were a pain in the ass. But I found myself smiling. I wasn't just smiling, I was grinning like an idiot. Stan glanced at me, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

"This is nice, isn't it?" I breathed, still grinning spectacularly. Stan gave me a stony look, obviously not finding the 'niceness' of me being late. I did however, notice the tiny hint of a smirk on his face as he turned back towards the road and that only made me smile more. It was hectic mornings like these that reminded me of back when Stan and I were in middle school. Back then, he was known as the 'King of Tardies' and was late almost every day. I'd had to drag him out of bed sometimes. It was difficult and annoying and downright some of the worst years of my life but Stan and I were really best friends back then. No one would question it. If Stan's best friend was mentioned everyone knew they were talking about me. The same went for my best friend.

But, it all changed in high school. Stan got really into football and met a lot more people. There were times when I didn't even recognize him. No one really called us 'Super Best Friends' anymore, except for maybe on occasion or if they were making a joke. Stan drifted away and we were only friends when we were around each other. Our falling out hadn't started this year. It had most certainly intensified this year, but it had started back when we were freshmen. No one else really noticed because the shift was so gradual. But ever since high school started there was a gap between us. A gap I couldn't manage to cross. And it kept just getting bigger. It wasn't like what Stan and Kenny had. Stan and Kenny had a steel wall between them with an endless abyss on either side. Fuck, spikes and flames were coming out of the wall and no one, no one, was ever going to mend that. A gap can be filled, and this hectic morning seemed to be the first layer to that.

* * *

Stan and I entered the school and were immediately surprised by a girl running down the hall and falling flat on her face, scattering all of what she was carrying in all directions. Stan simply stared at her, unaffected, unpitying. I cast him an annoyed look, not sure how he could feel nothing. He didn't even crack a smile. If anything, he'd usually laugh if someone failed that hard. But then I realized why he wasn't smiling. The girl righted herself and looked around dizzyingly. Her sleek black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which was probably why I didn't recognize her. But when she turned back to us I finally let out a little gasp of realization. Wendy Testaburger's face lit up in embarrassment.

"Well, are you two going to stand there or actually help me?" she called, a little bit of blood dripped from her nose. She was staring mostly at Stan. I don't remember the exact reasons why they broke up, but that had been months ago. I couldn't see how she could still be so obsessed with him. Stan narrowed his eyes, his nose scrunching up a bit and a grimace contorting his mouth, obviously finding the prospect extremely disgusting. She looked at him expectantly, hell, if I didn't know better I'd say they were having some sort of telepathic conversation.

"No thanks," grumbled Stan harshly, taking my wrist and dragging me away. Wendy made some exasperated noise. I gaped at Stan. Sure, maybe things didn't end well with him and Wendy, but he didn't have to be a _child_. Twisting my hand away I walked back to her and kneeled down, grabbing some tape and glitter glue. Wendy looked at me gratefully. "Kyle," groaned Stan, glaring at me now. I found it kind of empowering that I could control him like that. He wouldn't come within ten feet of us, choosing to stand and watch, or rather, glare. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed angrily.

"Thanks Kyle," sighed Wendy. She looked sad, really. She obviously wasn't over Stan. That didn't make me feel good. I muttered a 'no problem' and stood up.

"What's all this crap for?" I asked conversationally. Wendy blinked in surprise, not expecting to be questioned, but then she smiled.

"I'm on the planning committee for Homecoming! I'm going to make the sign. I was going to go do it just now, when _that_ catastrophe happened. Thanks for helping me out. I didn't really expect Stan to anyways," the sad look made its way back to her face as she looked away, her face reddening slightly. I didn't really know what to say about that. Stan was my best friend but when it came to him and Wendy I honestly didn't know all that much. And it wasn't as if I could _console _her or anything.

"Where do these go?"

"We'll put them in the student council room," she sighed. "I guess I can finish it after school," she pouted her lips, obviously not liking that prospect.

"Good, now get going," snapped Stan, finally breaching his ten feet radius and staring at me with annoyance. "We have to get to class, Kyle. She can take care of herself," he glanced at her for the slightest second and she flinched, glancing quickly away. I knew Wendy as being a very strong person but when it came to Stan she simply crumpled. It used to be the other way around. It was Stan that couldn't even be near her without puking his guts out from nervousness. But ever since high school, Stan had grown up considerably and the power shifted between them. They'd never had the best relationship to begin with anyways, I guess. They'd been dating off and on since we were all in fourth grade. But Stan said that their last break up would be the _last_. They weren't going to get back together again. It had been the one time that Stan had broken up with Wendy. Every time before it was Wendy who ended it with her wishy-washiness. But for some reason, Stan decided that enough was enough sometime last year, and by July they didn't even talk to each other. I guess it was similar to what happened with Kenny and Stan. Suddenly, a horrifying thought flashed through my mind. _What if Stan and Wendy breaking up had something to do with me like it had to do with Stan and Kenny!?_ No, it was impossible. Stan even said something along the lines of 'she was too much of a nagging bitch'. It had just been too much of each other. Their relationship had finally run its course. There's no way that I could be the common denominator in both break ups.

The next thing I knew, Stan was taking the sign supplies out of my hands and handing them to Wendy. I gave him a confused look when I realized that I'd been spacing out. Stan had his gaze lowered towards me, as if he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. His mouth was set in a firm line; he obviously wasn't in a good mood. I turned to Wendy, as she began to walk away, buried underneath large green paper and paints and felt sudden pity. The next words out of my mouth were involuntary.

"Hey, do you want help after school? Making the sign, I mean?" Wendy turned back to me, eyebrows raised in shock. Stan was deadpanning me with a 'you idiot' look, obviously steaming on the inside. But what could I say? It slipped out, she just looked so... so _depressed_. Like she needed someone to talk to. Wendy bit her lip and looked at the floor, then her eyes flitted to Stan, who responded with a look meaning to say 'don't you dare, bitch'. However, Wendy still seemed to have her not to be fucked with attitude and she smiled pleasantly at me.

"I... would love that, Kyle, thank you," she said to my surprise. Stan crushed the coffee cup in his hand and stormed away, throwing the cup in some random direction and grumbling something under his breath. "I'll be in the student council room after school, if you still want to come," she smiled at me and then walked away. Jogging after Stan, I finally caught up with him.

"What is your problem?" I snapped, trying to read the frustrated expression on his face.

"You don't just go 'hang out' with my ex-girlfriend, Kyle!" growled Stan, shooting me a mean look. Offended, I forgot to walk and had to jog to catch up with him again.

"I didn't think that that would be a problem! You guys broke up months ago! Besides, I'm just going to help her with the sign!" I countered. Stan was the one to stop now. He gave me the same look he had earlier: dumbfounded, dubious disbelief. He shook his head, putting a hand on his forehead and closing his eyes in frustration.

"Wendy's a fucking bitch, Kyle. You only know the good side of her," he stressed. The bell had already rung but neither of us had really noticed. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"Please, I heard you rant nonstop about how _horrible_ Wendy was. I've fucking heard every horrible thing about her. If that's her _good_ side then she must be some fucking succubus, because I can't think of anything worse then how you describe her! I'm just going to help her out. What are you so fucking uptight about?" Stan gave me a stubborn look, biting his lip hard, his eyebrows furrowing, hands balled into fists.

"She'll just..." he looked uncomfortably away, then with a soft 'pah' he waved me away and walked swiftly in the other direction. I called after him but he didn't answer. _It appears that our gap is going to take a bit more to fill..._ I thought, frowning after him.

* * *

"So, we need to make the sign big and legible, it's going to hang all the way across the Commons, so everyone can see it," explained Wendy, rolling out a big-ass sheet of paper. I sat across from her, crossing my legs "It should also be colorful," I nodded my head in agreement. "You can start with the big 'Homecoming' letters, just tracing them out, I'll go over them in paint and glitter glue."

It was quiet work between Wendy and me. I guessed she knew that she was the reason Stan had gotten mad at me. He didn't say anything to me for the rest of the day. I was honestly a little bit surprised. He'd usually at least apologize. Fuck, it's not like I did anything bad, anyways.

"Kyle, are you okay?" asked Wendy. I turned to her, an angry snarl still on my face. I realized I'd gotten preoccupied with my thoughts and it was showing in my expression.

"I'm... I'm fine," I assured her, working on straightening out the edge to the 'H'. "Was he a douchebag to you, Wendy? Or does he just save that especially for me?" I growled, not really sure why I thought it was a good idea to bring up Stan with his ex-girlfriend. Wendy pouted her lips.

"Well, maybe not as much as with you, but Stan was never really the nicest to me. I dunno, maybe we were just trying to get something to work that simply just wasn't meant to be. We had some good times together, but I guess Stan was just sick of me," she looked away, choosing to busy herself with deciphering the blue glitter glue from the green. I didn't really like talking to Wendy about Stan. She got really quite upset when he was brought up. But, annoyingly enough, I couldn't _not_ bring him up. Wendy stood up, "I need some more paint, I'll be right back," she mumbled, but I could see the tears entering the corners of her eyes. She most definitely wasn't over Stan. _Now the real question is if Stan is over Wendy..._ I thought absently, finishing the second 'O'. My phone buzzed and I flipped it open.

_"Where are you right now?" _

I narrowed my eyes at Stan's text.

_"Helping Wendy..."_

Stan's next text was immediate, and exactly what I expected.

_"Why the fuck are you helping Wendy?! I told you she doesn't need help, stop pitying her Kyle, let her drown in her own sorrows."_

_"Sorry but I'm not that much of an asshole."_

I closed my eyes, shaking my head back and forth. This morning I thought everything was going to better between Stan and me but apparently it really wasn't. I wanted everything to be okay. To pretend that we weren't in this fucking god-awful fight. But I couldn't pretend. Stan and I were fucked up right now, and I didn't know if we could salvage what little of our friendship we had left. I realized that helping Wendy was possibly the worst thing I could do if I wanted to keep Stan as a friend. Because if I was with Wendy, then Stan wasn't going to be anywhere near us. I considered for a moment just abandoning her in order to save my friendship, but only for a moment. _If Stan's going to be such a douchebag... Then why am I friends with him?_ I thought remorsefully.

"Kyle?" I turned to see Wendy looking at me worriedly. I gave her a pained look, I was caught a bit off guard and I couldn't compose myself in time. She kneeled down next to me, her eyebrows slanted and her expression pitying. "Do you need to talk about something?"

"No," I assured, trying desperately to not meet her gaze. "N-No, I'm okay," I gave her a weak smile and she stared right through me, thoroughly unconvinced.

"Kyle, you can always talk to me if Stan is bugging you. He's not all that easy to understand, he seems like he should be, but he isn't..."

"Why are you offering me advice?" I asked, glaring at her malevolently. There were times when Wendy took things too far. Just like right now, she should have just left me the fuck alone.

"Because..." she looked away, trying to pick her words wisely. "I don't know, I feel like we're similar, in a way," she gave me a hopeful look, wondering if I understood her words.

And no, I didn't understand fuck.

"We're not similar, Wendy," I said coldly. Her expression fell and she looked ashamedly down. "I should go. Sorry I couldn't help out more," I walked away from her and then stopped. "Wendy?"

"Yeah?" she looked sad again, but still met my eyes dead on.

"Has Stan ever said anything to you about a fight that he and Kenny had? And what it was about? Like, when they stopped being friends?" I asked. Wendy blinked, obviously she didn't know. She replied with a negative and I inwardly groaned. There went my last chance at finding out.

"Wait, Kyle," she called after I started to walk away. "U-um, about Kenny and Stan's fight," she looked away from me and then sucked in a breath, mustering up her courage. "W-when was that? Do you know when it started?"

"Near the end of the school year, last year," I mumbled, wondering what her point was.

"W-well... If it helps you at all, that was the same time he broke up with me. I don't know, what's going on?" she looked hopeful, like she thought I was going to tell her something. But I shook my head.

"I don't know what's going on, that's what I'm trying to figure out," I explained. "Apparently, according to Kenny, the reason they stopped being friends has something to do with me. And I want to know what. What could I have possibly done that split my friends apart?!" Wendy's eyes had widened, a horror-stricken look on her face. "What's with that look?" I muttered, confused at her over-reaction.

"Nothing!" she insisted, her eyes still wide. "Oh, shit, is that the time? I'll see you later, Kyle, thanks for helping me with the sign!" she ran off, leaving me confused yet again.

"Goddammit," I ran a hand through my hair. "It's like everyone gets it but me."


End file.
